Seriously, he accepted their accommodation, and now finds himself
compelled to endure their painful presence.
"I, I, I-m, rather in doubt," stammers M'Carstrow, fingering the
little obligation again, turning it over and over, rubbing his eyes,
applying his glass. He sees nothing in the signature to dispute. "I
must stop this kind of fishing," he says; "don't do. It 's just what
friend Scranton would call very bad philosophy. Gentlemen, suppose
you sit down; we'd better consider this matter a little. Han't got a
dime in the bank, just now." M'Carstrow is becoming more quiet,
takes a philosophical view of the matter, affects more suavity.
Calling loudly for the negro servant, that personage presents
herself, and is ordered to bring chairs to provide accommodation for
the gentlemen, in the hall.
"Might just as well settle the matter in the parlour, colonel;
t'wont put you out a mite," the gambler suggests, with a laconic
air. He will not trouble M'Carstrow by waiting for his reply. No; he
leads the way, very coolly, asking no odds of etiquette; and, having
entered the apartment, invites his comrades to take seats. The
dignity and coolness with which the manouvre is executed takes
"Boss" M'Carstrow by surprise; makes him feel that he is merely a
dependent individual, whose presence there is not much need of. "I
tell you what it is, gents, I'ze shaved my accounts at the bank down
to the smallest figure, have! but there's an honourable
consideration about this matter; and, honour's honour, and I want to
discharge it somehow--niggers or cash!" The gentlemen's feelings
have smoothed down amazingly.
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